


Ain't No White Light

by CatHeights



Series: No Emerald City [3]
Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keller would bleed all over the floor if that's what Toby needed, because as long as the two of them were together, nothing would bring them down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't No White Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is an apocalyptic story, so while I don't consider it a death fic, there is a lot of death, both of humans and animals.

"Are you sure? You bled a lot today." Beecher traced a finger lightly against the clean bandages, as if he was surprised they were blood free.

Keller pressed on Beecher's hand, flattening it out. There was a twinge of pain, but he didn't show it. "Spotting ain't a lot of blood. Relax." He ran a hand along the smooth skin of Beecher's hip and then made a pointed glance in the direction of his cock. "The only blood loss I'm suffering is from wanting you."

Beecher laughed, moving his hand to Keller's shoulder as he kissed him. Toby was so damn gentle with him now, as if he was something breakable. It made him ache in a way he didn't want to think about. Normally he'd push Toby to go rougher, but for the first time in a long while, he saw glimpses of the old Toby.

At first he'd found Beecher's obsessive need to look at his wound annoying. Except it seemed the more he indulged this mother hen need, the calmer Beecher got. Even the nightmares while not gone had eased some. Toby's focus was completely on him, day and night, and that was something he could handle. Hell, in Oz it had been his goal. So he made a few complaining quips to keep Beecher engaged and allowed the coddling. Ain't like it was much to ask to keep Beecher connected to reality. Shit, he'd bleed all over the fucking floor if that's what Toby needed.

He closed his eyes as Beecher ran a hand over his jaw and then kissed his throat. There was the slightest pressure against the wound, and then he felt the wet warmth of Toby's lips on his stomach tracing a path downward until Toby's mouth captured his cock. Thank fucking god gentleness was thrown out the window as Beecher took him deep and sucked hard.

Keller arched, his hips moving upward as his cock sought more attention. One thrust, another, and another, until suddenly the pressure was gone.

"You know I think you might have liked that?"

"I think you're a goddamn tease." Keller's words came out in a pant, and he twisted trying to rub his cock against Toby's naked body.

Beecher put a hand on his hip and pushed him so he was lying flat again. He chuckled, his breath a warm breeze across Keller's sensitive cock.

"Toby, you're...." Keller stopped. Christ, he'd almost forgotten himself and said, "killing me." The last time he'd made that mistake it had taken the entire night to bring Beecher back to himself. He'd spent hours watching Toby curled up in a corner, muttering and making broken sounds that knifed into Keller's soul. This time he recovered quickly and just said, "Ah, come on, don't be like this."

"You're melodramatic, you know that?" Beecher smiled, and the sight of it took Keller's breath away. In this moment, he looked happy.

Keller placed his hand on top of the one Beecher was resting on his hip. "Nah, I just know what I want."

"Me."

"Yep."

"You know," Beecher moved so that his ass was resting against Keller's cock, "I may be able to help you out." He slid back and forth a few times and then leaned to reach for the lube on the nightstand—one of several tubes they'd liberated from a grocery store that morning.

"Fuck me." The words slid off his tongue without thought, triggered by the sound of the cap opening.

"Chris, no. I don't want to hurt you." Beecher ran his middle finger along the bandage on Keller's side. "Let me take care of you."

Except now that he'd had the thought, Keller couldn't let it go. It was a need inside him that he'd been burying down, because Toby needed to be the one taken and fucked until reality bled through. But he wanted to let go like he's only been able to do with Beecher. He captured Beecher's wrist, circling it gently. "You ain't gonna hurt me. Take me from behind. There won't be any strain that way."

As always Beecher had to be difficult. "And the fact you've brought up that something might be a strain is even more reason this is a bad idea."

Keller stroked the tip of Beecher's cock, fingering the slit and watching as Beecher's eyes darkened. "You're twisting my words." He placed his hands on Beecher's hips. "You said you wanted to take care of me. I need this." His voice shook with the last few words.

"Hey." Beecher rubbed his thumb along Keller's cheek. "It's okay."

He closed his eyes as Beecher kissed him and slid one hand into the curling hair at Beecher's nape.

"I'll give you what you need, but you've got to stop me if it hurts. Ok?"

Relief and want washed through him, leaving him shaking. When he kissed Beecher it was rough, tongue and lips poor conduits for the emotion that coiled inside him.

"Lie back."

Keller immediately did as requested. There never seemed to be an adequate way to express what he felt for Beecher. It was so fucking strong and nothing in his shitty life had prepared him for such a feeling. But turning his control completely over to Beecher, trusting without reservation, was the closest he could come to showing Beecher he meant everything.

"Don't move."

Tremors racked his muscles as he followed Beecher's order. Sensation drowned him as mouth, hands and words caressed his body in a manner that was somehow both seductive and worshipful. Stretched thin along a razor sharp line of pleasure and want, Keller flew. No high ever felt like this one. In this moment, he had fucking everything. His hands twitched, wanting to reach out for Beecher so he could bring their mouths together, drag their bodies closer, to seal out the rest of the world.

Beecher must have seen the twitch because he leaned down and licked Keller's earlobe, and then opened his mouth grazing the lobe with his teeth. "Uh-uh. I said don't move."

Keller pressed his palms against the sheet stilling them. You gotta fly without a net if you want to soar. There was pressure against the tip of his cock and the light swirl of a tongue. Keller swallowed the groan threatening to burst free and knotted his fingers in the sheets. He almost lost the battle when Toby blew air across his cock and a choked sound escaped his throat.

"Turn over." Beecher moved away from him, and Keller did as he asked.

Beecher's cock slid along his ass crack, and he ground into the mattress as he felt kisses on the back of his neck. A hand on his hips guided him to his knees, and then fingers were at his opening, teasing and stretching until he was begging. "Beech, please. Fuck, just, please."

"Shh."

He felt another kiss on his neck, and then Beecher's cock pressed into him, breaking him open and filling him until he was so damn complete. A sharp centered spike of pleasure quickly spread moving in all directions to consume his body. In this moment, he felt like nothing could come between him and Toby. They were fucking gods surviving the apocalypse. Ain't nothing bringing them down.

Keller came first, his body wracked with tight shudders that quickly started to dissipate into languid muscles.

Beecher wasn't far behind. "Chris. Oh god, Chris. Chris."

He shuddered. The sound of Beecher shouting his name triggered a reaction similar to orgasm.

Beecher pressed a kiss to his back before pulling out and collapsing beside him.

He rolled onto his side and reached for Beecher and gave him a wet and lazy kiss, all the while thinking, _you and me, we're fine together, whole fucking world at our feet._ His confidence must have bled through into the kiss because Beecher smiled at him, and when he kissed back it was just as lazy and self-indulgent as if he didn't have a care in the world.

They lay there for a while, not speaking in words, but saying volumes with small caresses and the lack of space between them. It occurred to him in the quiet that he was actually happy, and he wanted to laugh. Instead he kissed Beecher again, this time it was just a brief press of lips, which Beecher responded to with a touch to his cheek.

Of course it was impossible for Beecher to stay still for long, and before he was ready he was being dragged to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The water from the faucet was cold as they wiped down, and he was shivering when they were done. So the moment Beecher yawned, it was a no brainer to drag him back to bed underneath warm covers and reclaim their previous lazy indulgence.

Beecher fell asleep almost instantly, but while he drifted, Keller couldn't seem to fully doze off. The wound was a bitch, a nagging annoyance. It was in a spot where each movement seemed to rip it open, and of course it was bleeding again. Funny, it hadn't bothered him during sex. Or at least he hadn't noticed it, or perhaps he had just ignored it. You had to have priorities and letting some stupid ass wound get in the way of sex with Toby wasn't gonna happen. It ain't nothing to worry about. He'd had wounds like this one before. They just took fucking forever to heal.

Keller slipped carefully out of the bed and went to the bathroom to redo his bandage. It would freak Beecher in the morning if he saw the spotting. He was lucky it hadn't started bleeding when they were cleaning up earlier. The wound was a strange thing—a ragged path that looked a bit like a child had been finger painting with something sharp. But while it bled occasionally, it showed no sign of infection. It could have been worse.

The bathroom lighting was dim, and Keller cursed softly as he struggled to get a fresh bandage in place. Afterward he slowly made his way back to the bedroom being careful where he stepped. The house was a bit of a disaster and earlier they'd learned it was quite easy to send broken bits of fuck knows what flying. Last thing he wanted to do was wake Beecher, or god forbid O'Reily. The Irishman wasn't winning any congeniality awards these days.

When he stepped into the bedroom, he paused, listening to the sound of Toby breathing deep and even. He thought that might be one of his favorite sounds in the world—Beecher sleeping peacefully. If things held course this would be the second night in a row that Toby slept nightmare free. What a relief that would be.

The first few nights after that mess with the zombie kid, Beecher had nightmares that didn't end when he woke. Keller had thought the nightmare the first night had been bad, but he'd been able to bring Beecher back to reality relatively quickly and on his own. The two nights that followed had been even worse.

_The screaming woke him. A howl of terror and grief that brought goose bumps to his skin and the feeling of a knife twisting in his stomach. He bolted straight up and turned to wake Toby. Except Toby was already awake, eyes open wide, face flushed and twisted in a grimace of pain, and that unearthly noise coming from his mouth._

_"Hey, Toby. Easy." Keller reached out and touched Beecher's elbow._

_As if he'd been burned, Beecher snatched his arm away and bolted off the bed. "No, I can't screw this up. I won't let you take them. I'm their father. Take me."_

_Beecher walked backward until he hit the corner of the room, and then he collapsed to the floor, drawing his knees in and wrapping his arms across his chest as if they were trapped in a straight jacket. He began to rock._

_The sight made Keller swallow hard. It looked almost if Beecher was reliving solitary. He approached quietly and knelt in front of him. "Toby, it's me, Chris."_

_Beecher just rocked harder._

_"You're not alone. Ok? I'm going to stay with you."_

_He got no response. Beecher kept rocking._

_"You don't have to talk. That's all right. Ain't nothing you gotta do." Keller moved to sit next to Beecher and slid an arm around his shoulder._

_Toby curled in tight and started howling again._

_"Beech, relax. It's me." His heart started to pound. He couldn't calm Toby down, and he could hear the others coming into the room. Christ._

_Mukada touched his arm. "Chris, you need to move back."_

_He allowed himself to be pulled away, only so he could tell the priest no fucking way was he leaving Toby. Except the moment he stopped touching Beecher, the screaming stopped. Keller felt like he'd been punched._

_"He's not recognizing you right now. You just need to give him some space until he does. We can stay here. We just can't touch him until he's ready."_

_Keller swallowed but he had no idea what to say. How the fuck could he help if Toby didn't even know who he was?_

_"It's going to be ok. He was like this back in Emerald City, before you saw him in solitary. You just have to give him time."_

_"Ok," Keller managed to get that one word out. Except there ain't nothing 'bout this that was okay._

_"Ryan, Miguel, go back to sleep. We've got this under control."_

_"Father?"_

_Keller heard the doubt in Alvarez's voice, but he didn't turn around, because if Alvarez was questioning, he can bet the expression on O'Reily's face was not one he wanted to see. He couldn't deal with O'Reily's shit right now._

_"It will be better for Tobias if it's just Chris and I. He'll be fine come morning. Best thing you can do is to go back to sleep. Please, Miguel."_

_"All right."_

_Keller was relieved when he heard the sound of the door closing quietly._

It had taken hours to get through to Beecher, but Mukada had stayed with him the whole time, helping him bring Beecher back to sanity's side of the ledge. Since then, the priest had kept his word to try to draw Toby out. Mukada ain't had a ton of luck getting Beech to talk about things, but he was much calmer so Keller figured it must be helping in some way. He felt sort of shitty about the way he'd treated the priest. Looking back on things, it really wasn't the priest's fault Toby got hurt, but it sure as fuck felt that way at the time. Oh well, what's done is done. It's not like he'd ever claimed to be a Good Samaritan or completely rational when it came to Beecher.

Still he'd meant what he'd said to Mukada that their little group was all they had and if they didn't have each other's backs, they were fucked. Now if he could just get O'Reily on board with the one for all, all for one, motto, he'd be golden. Or maybe he just needed to work on Alvarez, and let Alvarez deal with the pissy Irishman. Not that O'Reily had made any complaints lately. Even he seemed to realize doting Beecher was a hell of a lot better than nursery rhyme spewing Beecher.

As Keller climbed back into bed, he felt a painful twinge in his side, and he bit down on his lip to keep from cussing and waking Toby. After a second, the pain faded to a dull throb, and he relaxed turning toward Beecher, who rolled so that his head touched Keller's chest. With a contented sigh, Keller closed his eyes, and as he drifted off to sleep, he thought, _things are finally getting better._

Famous fucking last words. He should have known better than to be lured into a false sense of security.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dogs kept coming undeterred by the gunfire or the bodies of their dead brethren that littered the ground. Some broke off their attack to eat the dead, so ravenous in their hunger that the instinct overruled all else. If these animals had once been someone's pet, they'd forgotten such loyalties in the struggle to survive. Their small group was a pathetic circle hemmed in by a seeming unending sea of snarling animals that came in all shapes and sizes but shared a vicious mindset.

Keller fired repeatedly. His arm ached, and he noticed he was reloading slower each time. On one side of him was Beecher and on the other Mukada. With this stretch of land being overrun with dogs intent on making them dinner, the priest had finally seen the necessity of being armed and had Alvarez train him how to handle a gun. He wasn't a bad shot, which was good, because the damn dogs were fast.

After what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than 20 minutes, the last dog went down. Its final growl seeming to linger. The massacre before them was horrible to look at but even worse was the scent. The metallic smell of new blood mixed with the gaseous rot of death created a toxic smell that turned Keller's stomach.

"We need to get the fuck out of here. The dead are gonna draw more dogs." O'Reily moved forward stepping on empty ground when he could and shoving dead animals out of his way when he couldn't.

"At this rate our ammo ain't gonna last." Alvarez said, as he stepped in line behind O'Reily.

"Tell me something I don't fucking know."

No one spoke after O'Reily's response. Keller waved Beecher ahead of him, and then they all kept their gazes focused on the ground, watching for movement as they tried to get the hell out of this nightmare scene. He heard Mukada gag, but didn't turn around. They'd learned not paying attention could be dangerous, as an injured, dying dog was even more vicious.

Keller breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped over the last dog. Still the group kept silent. It was already the second attack they'd faced that day. He hoped that bit about things coming in threes wasn't true. How many dogs could one place have?

As the adrenalin rush faded, he began to shiver. He hadn't been cold when the day started, but now it suddenly seemed freezing. That might have something to do with his clothes being damp with blood. A sharp pain in his side made him want to curse, but he bit it back, not wanting to worry Beecher. But goddammit, why the hell was his side bothering him again? It had been fine.

He couldn't resist breaking his vigilance for a glance at Beecher, who was just as covered in blood. Toby was moving fine, so Keller hoped all that blood was from the dogs. And of course Toby turned to look at him. He always seemed to know when Keller was watching, and he seemed to know the conversation of Keller's body language.

_You okay?_

_Fine._

_You?_

_Ain't nothing keep me down._

Despite no words actually being exchanged, Beecher smirked for a second before turning his attention back to the landscape. Reassured that Toby was ok, Keller did the same. Throughout all the dog attacks, Beecher had been a focused, rational presence at his side. He'd saved O'Reily's life two days ago, taking out a dog that had leaped over several others intent on taking a bite out of the Irishman. It proved the point Keller had been making all along—they needed Beecher.

At least in some way things were getting better, and eventually they'd make their way out of dog fucking town.

An hour later, they came upon an outdoor fountain, which was remarkably still running, and washed off some of the blood covering them. When he was done, Keller nodded at them. "Gonna take a piss."

As he started to walk off, Beecher grabbed his arm. "Be careful."

"Uh-huh, will do." Keller frowned as Beecher didn't let go. "I'll be right back. You ain't gonna have time to miss me."

Beecher took a deep breath and then let go. "Go take your ego for a piss. Just pay attention."

After a brief squeeze to Beecher's shoulder, he walked a short distance away. He took care of business quickly and of course he was cautious. Vigilance was a constant state of being these days. Ain't no reason for Toby to have to remind him to be careful, except well, he was Toby.

As he zipped up, he felt a burning pain in his side. He noticed his shirt was ripped open on one side, and that some of the blood was his own. All the adrenalin pumping through his system must have prevented him from noticing the injury. He hadn't even fucking felt getting bitten, but yeah, those were bite marks. Goddammit. Keller gingerly felt around the area. It looked like it had stopped bleeding. Ain't nothing to be done about it now, but later he would have to make sure he took care of it before Beecher saw. It's the last fucking thing he needed.

Beecher was watching him with sharp eyes when he returned. "You okay?"

He figured the best way to throw Beecher off the scent was to tell a partial truth. "Yeah. Just tired of fighting off Cujo in all shapes and sizes."

It seemed to work as Beecher nodded and said, "That last batch had a dog that looked like Lassie. There should be a universal law against dogs that look like Lassie behaving like Cujo."

"Shit yeah." Keller walked back over to the fountain and rinsed off his hands.

"Hey, this ain't nap time. We need to get moving again. Find some shelter before dark," O'Reily said. He and Alvarez both already had their backpacks on again.

As Keller moved toward his, he saw Mukada struggling to get to his feet and leaned down to give him a hand.

"Thanks." The priest gave him a tired smiled.

"No problem."

Once, he, Mukada and Beecher had their packs in place again, they continued onward. As if noticing the injury had made his brain aware of it, Keller's side hurt like hell. He noticed as he walked, he leaned more on his right side as each step on his left pulled at the injury. If he kept that up, Beecher would notice. Keller forced himself to walk normally despite the agony that entailed.

It wasn't until the sun started its descent that they all agreed to take their chances and camp out in one of the apartment buildings in the area. It would provide protection from the dogs, which the tents wouldn't, and hopefully it would be the lesser of two of evils. They'd learned a lot could go wrong in an apartment building. Right now, he was willing to risk anything if it meant stopping for a bit. Keller hoped the building they chose had running water because the scent of the dog blood was making him nauseous. He wasn't sure why it was bothering him today. Shit like that usually didn't.

As they were navigating the complex, Alvarez darted ahead. "Over here. This one has a National Guard marking."

"At least that means no bodies." O'Reily broke into a jog.

A few more steps and hopefully he could stop for a while. Keller rubbed at his eyes.

"Chris, are you ok?"

He forced a smile. "Sure. I'm just fucking tired and I really hope this place has running water."

Beecher didn't look convinced. "Yeah, a shower would be good. You've got a lot of blood on you."

Mukada was now staring at him as well. Shit.

"Don't I know it. If there's water, think we can risk using the laundry? Should at least get rid of the scent, and everything we've got smells like blood now. We're going to need to find new clothes. Might make sense to case some of the apartments."

He realized he was rambling by the look on Beecher's face. Despite how much it hurt, Keller picked up his pace and joined Alvarez and O'Reily at the door. It was roped closed, and both men were struggling to untie it. When they got it undone, the door flew open, and Keller yanked O'Reily out of the way, saving him from what would have been at the very least a major headache.

"Thanks K-boy."

"Anytime."

As they entered the building everyone was hyperaware, focused on making sure there were no surprises. For now the crisis was averted. Beecher wasn't gonna find out he was bleeding again and flip. He just had to get through the next few hours, pretend he wasn't hurting, and all would be fine come morning.

They came to a heavy interior door, beyond which should be the first floor apartments. The door showed no sign of damage, which was good. Perhaps the National Guard hadn't blown sections of this place to smithereens, and they weren't risking bits of the ceiling coming down on their heads or the floor falling out from beneath them. It also had no locking mechanism so they didn't need to figure out how to break in. Something being easy was a nice change of pace.

"Should we camp out in the hallway or check out the accommodations?" Alvarez eyed the hallway warily.

"Check out the accommodations." O'Reily slung an arm around Alvarez's shoulder and glanced upward toward the dim hallway lights. "The place has got power, so maybe that means hot showers." He pulled his arm away. "I say that's worth some exploration. What do you say?"

Keller thought that was an excellent idea as he needed some place away from prying eyes to check on that goddamn bite. "I'm with ya. A shower sure as fuck is worth checking out what's behind our mystery doors."

"Agreed." Beecher pressed a hand against Keller's back. He leaned into the touch. God he was tired.

"Father?" Alvarez asked.

"A shower sounds good." Mukada smiled, but Keller noticed the expression was strained.

Guns at ready, they began to check out apartments. Their luck held as the first two apartments they scoped were empty and the showers worked. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was still a luxury.

"Why don't we split up between the two apartments and shower, but all camp out here. Place is huge. Wouldn't have known it from the hallway." Alvarez wandered the living room seeming fascinated by the multiple velvet couches that lined the room in red, purple and blue.

"Someone had interesting taste or was color blind. Keller and I will go next door to shower." Beecher looked toward him, and Keller nodded. "After we shower and take stock of these places, do we want to see what a few others have to offer? Clothes would be good."

"We can do that in the morning. Ain't like the crap is going anywhere." O'Reily yawned.

There were murmured words of agreement, then Beecher said, "Come on," and Keller followed him next door.

"You go first," Keller said once they were inside. This apartment wasn't even a quarter of the size of the other one and the shower was tiny. "I'll keep watch." Beecher going first would give him some time to hunt for bandages in his backpack and slide them into a shirt that while blood-stained would be dried versus this still wet with blood shit.

"Let's check the closets and bureaus first and see if there's anything that might fit us."

"Good idea."

It was Toby who ended up scoping out the clothing situation, as his efforts were half-hearted at best. He was so incredibly tired. Surprisingly, Beecher found clothing that would fit both of them.

"Pants might be a bit long for me," Beecher said as he inspected a pair of khakis. "But I can roll them or cut them." He eyed the duffle bag where he'd found the pants. "I think several people must have holed up in this place. There's several bags and besides the clothing, there are photo albums and laptops."

Keller wondered what had made those people think this place, or any place was safe, or maybe that hadn't been it all, maybe they'd just wanted to be together for the end. A touch to his neck made him jump. He'd zoned and hadn't heard Toby come up behind him. His eyes slid close as Toby rubbed at his shoulders.

"Come on, let's get you into the shower. You're exhausted."

"We agreed, you were going first." Keller opened his eyes and stepped away. "I'm fine."

"I agreed to no such thing. This is ridiculous. Let's not argue about who showers first. You're swaying on your feet, and I'm wide awake, so go first and sprawl out on the couch here while I shower. Ok?"

The mulish expression on Beecher's face meant he had no chance in hell of winning this argument. If he kept at it, all he would do was raise suspicion and piss Toby off. It was a no win situation. "Ok."

Keller walked over and retrieved his backpack, acting like it was perfectly natural to be taking the whole damn thing into the shower with him. Maybe Beecher wouldn't notice.

"Chris."

Not fucking likely. He turned around. "Yeah?"

Beecher was holding out a stack of clothes. "Here take these. Did you forget all ready about the new clothes?"

"Apparently." He took the clothes from Beecher and then put his backpack down, knelt beside it and fished around for some bandages. They were buried down, in a nicely sealed plastic bag, courtesy of Toby, and he took his time pulling out the gauze and tape. Rushing would have made it seem like he had something to hide. He could spin this.

"Did you get bit?"

"Nope."

"So you bandage yourself for fun now?"

He smirked up at Beecher and then focused on putting stuff back into his backpack. You never knew when you'd have to leave a place in a hurry. "Nah, that damn zombie wound is pretty much healed, but I figured with all the dog blood we been wearing lately it made sense to cover it and not risk any of that getting into a cut. It seemed prudent."

"It is prudent."

Keller stood. "Gonna hit the shower now."

"Where did you get bit?"

Tension bubbled through his veins. He couldn't deal with this right now. "What the fuck, Toby? I told you I didn't get bit. Christ, you need to cut this paranoid shit out. I ain't lying to you. I'm fucking tired. What part of that don't you get? You know what I'm too fucking tired to put up with your bullshit."

He took the clothes, gauze and tape into the bathroom and slammed the door. After dropping everything on the sink, he rested his head against the door for a moment. Damn it, he shouldn't have lost it like that. Keller took a deep breath. Nothing to be done about it now.

"Just need to calm the fuck down." After he finished showering and taking care of the goddamn bite, he'd apologize to Beecher. If he groveled a bit and played the exhaustion card—which wouldn't be hard—all should be fine. Toby would bitch and be pouty, but it would be ok. It had to be.

He stood up and started going through the vanity. There were a couple bars of soap in one drawer, so he put one in the shower and left one on the sink for Beecher. Then he turned on the shower. The water was barely on the side of warm, but it still felt so good cleaning off the stench of those dogs. Keller closed his eyes and let it wash over him for a moment. Not wanting to use so much water that Beecher's shower would be cold, he forced himself to move and grab the soap. He started with the injured spot first, gently cleaning it. It burned like a motherfucker.

Once he rinsed away the soap, he twisted to get a good look at the injury. Unbelievably the dog had bitten him in the same spot where that zombie kid had gotten him. It figured that wound had finally stopped spotting and had moved onto the looks nasty as shit stage, which meant it had been well on its way to healing. Now it looked puffy and raw and had the distinct impression of teeth, but at least it wasn't bleeding at the moment. He finished washing, using the shampoo on the ledge to clean his hair. Once he stepped out of the shower, he covered the wound and dressed as quickly as he could as it was freezing.

Toby was waiting for him when he opened the door, and his anger had obviously been building as he let loose immediately.

"Forgive me for actually giving a damn."

"Toby...."

"No, listen to me. I can't watch your bravado get you killed. The whole 'nothing is going to take me down' routine impresses no one in this world. There's no one left to impress. There's just you and I." Beecher's voice caught for a moment. "So drop the act and just be honest."

"I'm sorry." Keller knew he'd started off with the right approach by the surprised look on Toby's face and that he kept quiet. "I'm so fucking exhausted and I took it out on you. I shouldn't done that. I'm fine, really. Just feel like sleeping for a week."

"Really? Promise me there's nothing you're not telling me that I should be worried about."

"Toby, I swear. If there was something wrong that you should be worried about, I'd tell ya. The only thing wrong is I'm a jackass. And I'm sorry about that."

Beecher snorted.

"Forgive me?"

"Yes, but let it be put on record that you have admitted to being a jackass."

Keller smiled. "I ain't never claimed to be perfect. Come here." He reached for Toby and was stunned when Beecher quickly jumped back.

"You just showered, and I'm still covered in," Beecher looked down at himself with disgust, "this shit. Why don't you go sit down while I shower."

Relief flooded through him. He chuckled. "Ah, I forgot."

"You really do have a one track mind, Keller."

He shrugged. Nothing wrong with being focused, right?

"I'm going to shower. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Keller dropped down on the couch, and the exhaustion devoured him. It was like it was waiting for him to drop his defenses so that it could turn all his muscles into jelly. He told himself he needed to stay awake and keep watch for signs of any trouble, but by the time Beecher was out of the shower, he had fallen asleep.

As the day progressed it developed a surreal edge that he associated with being seriously sleep-deprived, trippin' on some drug cocktail, or a mixture of both. He remembered Beecher half dragging him back to the larger apartment. Then dinner, which was a mixture of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops as the breakfast pantry of the apartment had been filled with a shitload of cereal. Keller swore they must have reduced the amount of sugar in cereals because the multiple bowls they each devoured should have had them all running a sugar high. But if the lack of conversation was anything to go by, everyone else was just as exhausted as he was.

At last he spread his sleeping bag out on the carpeted floor and curled up next to Beecher. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke to the sound of his name.

"Chris."

"What do ya want Toby?"

"No. Don't. Chris."

Realization struck and adrenalin flooded his system. Beecher was having a nightmare. He kissed the back of Toby's neck and whispered in his ear, "Shh, it's just a dream. I'm right here."

He kept it up for a few minutes and eventually Beecher stopped talking. Keller counted it a victory that not only did Toby not wake, but no one else did. Except he was wrong about that, because as he was about to close his eyes again, he realized Alvarez was staring down at him from where he'd been sleeping on one of the velvet couches. Neither man spoke, and after a minute Keller closed his eyes. He was too tired to deal with anything right now. If there was a problem with Alvarez, he'd take care of it tomorrow.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning had been chilly, and now dark clouds in the sky heralded the approach of a storm. They had just passed out of a residential area and into a section that appeared more industrial. Nothing was around, no dogs or birds or any other humans, and yet Keller could swear eyes were watching them. There was something wrong here. It strummed through every nerve in his body.

He sought O'Reily's gaze but instead met Alvarez's, who nodded. Obviously he wasn't the only one sensing danger, which didn't make him feel any better. Keller moved closer to Beecher.

"I think...." Beecher stopped and looked at the sky, and just as he did so the heavens opened up. He chuckled. "That it's going to start raining."

"Motherfucking shitty weather." O'Reily hurried toward the nearest building, cursing more when the door wouldn't budge.

The rain came down in torrents. As they walked from building to building finding no way to get in, the wind picked up and pretty soon walking became a huge effort. Finally Mukada approached a building that looked like some sort of warehouse and pulled on a graffiti marked metal sliding door that actually opened. Keller thought that counted as a miracle as they all hurried inside.

The lower level of the building was filled with rows of containers in all shapes and sizes. Looking up Keller could see at least four other levels all lined with catwalks.

O'Reily walked over to the first row and tapped a steel barrel with his foot. "Hope they weren't storing hazardous waste in these."

"Yo, we have no idea what shit is in those, and you're kicking it," Alvarez said.

"Relax." While Ryan acted like it was no big deal, he did take a step back. Keller didn't think he'd be kicking any more containers.

Mukada eyed the containers curiously. "I don't see any marking indicating they contain toxic substances."

"And companies never lied about the things they transported." Beecher walked over to O'Reily. "Kicking them seems a bit like playing Russian roulette."

"How about I kick you instead?"

Beecher laughed. "The answer stays the same."

O'Reily paused for a moment and then laughed as well. "Crazy bastard."

As the atmosphere amongst everyone seemed friendly enough, Keller tuned out the conversation. That uneasy feeling grew by the moment. He still felt as if someone or something was watching them. This place had a dark stink to it, and it was something that went beyond scent, although he sure as shit smelled something rotten.

"What's that smell?" Beecher asked, as if reading his mind.

"Don't know, but something ain't right here."

Keller was glad when O'Reily nodded in agreement.

At the end of the fifth aisle they walked down, they came upon the reason for the smell. Three dead bodies were piled on top of each other. All were dark skinned men and in addition to bullet wounds, they had what looked like several stab wounds.

"We can rule out zombies and dogs. Haven't seem either armed with guns." Keller noticed the severe bruising on the top man's face. He'd bet their deaths had been slow and painful.

Mukada shook his head and looked ill. "So few of us left, and someone had to do this."

Truth be told Keller was more surprised that they hadn't stumbled upon something like this sooner. Survival of the fittest was always the top game in town, and it would be even more so now with less resources.

"They haven't been dead long," Alvarez said.

"No." O'Reily started back down the aisle. "This is trouble."

As they reached the end of the aisle, Keller thought he saw something move, but then everything blurred, spinning in a dizzying fashion. It righted itself, and he felt hot, which was odd since prior to this he'd been ignoring how damn cold he was.

"I agree." Beecher touched his arm and stopped him. "Are you ok? You just swayed."

"Yeah, turned too fast. Lost my balance. Guess I ain't Miss Grace." Keller dropped his voice. "I thought I saw something move about two aisles over? Did you see it?"

"No."

"Maybe it was my imagination."

Beecher shook his head. "No, considering what we just found, I'm betting you saw someone. Let's catch up to the others."

They never had a chance to do so, as Alvarez was knocked to the ground, and they were surrounded by men with guns. Some were standing on top of containers, while others stood like guards at the end of the rows. Keller estimated between 10 and 15 men.

"Hello sweet pea."

Keller couldn't remember the last time he felt frozen in place, but right now he couldn't move as he saw Vern Schillinger step out from one of the aisles. This couldn't be happening. Fucking Vern couldn't have survived.

A sound of rage echoed in the warehouse as Beecher raised his gun. The other men were standing in front of Vern. It would be a pointless shot, but still Keller couldn't move.

"I wouldn't let him do that, Keller. They will shoot, and where will you be without your precious whore."

The words snapped Keller out of his daze. He gently placed his hand on Toby's arm and felt the shaking. "Don't." He turned slightly and whispered. "You do this, he wins. Wait him out, and we'll find our opening."

Beecher slowly lowered his gun, but he kept a solid grasp on it.

"Come on Vern, I know in the past maybe we ain't always seen eye to eye, but it's a much smaller fucking universe now." O'Reily gazed around somewhat dismissively at Vern's minions. "And you know we're the type of firepower you want on your side."

O'Reily looked calm, but Keller was positive it was taking every ounce of control for him not to glance toward Alvarez who was kneeling with his hands on his head and a gun pointed toward his back.

"What I know is the goddamn universe is giving me a just reward. This couldn't get any sweeter."

Vern raised his gun, and the guy behind Alvarez stepped away quickly, and Keller knew that Schillinger intended to take out Alvarez first, and there wasn't a fucking thing any of them could do.

A shot rang out, but it wasn't Alvarez who was hit. Instead, Schillinger dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Alvarez was in motion instantly, knocking out the guy nearest to him and taking his gun.

Keller grabbed Beecher and dragged him into the nearest aisle for cover. He saw O'Reily pulling Mukada away and noticed the handgun gripped tightly in the priest's hand. They had given it to him when he'd had trouble managing the rifle to shoot dogs in the beginning. Pieces clicked together—the priest had shot Schillinger to save Alvarez. He didn't have time to think much on this turn of events as everything exploded in chaos.

Shots ricocheted off the metal containers. Keller spun out from cover, and before ducking behind containers again, he saw two men fall, but he wasn't sure if either shot had been a kill shot. He noticed a grim look of determination on Beecher's face that surely spelled trouble.

"Cover me," Beecher said. "I'm going to draw their fire. You take them down."

Before he could grab hold and tell Toby that was a stupid plan, Beecher was darting out into the open, and there was nothing left for him to do but to target the men trying to take Toby down. The stupid ass plan worked, and he took out two more men.

The shots began to sound like they were coming from a distance. Keller peered around a container and realized what was left of Vern's crew was retreating. After a moment, the gunfire stopped. He waited a few minutes more before looking and saw O'Reily doing the same from across the way. Keller inclined his head toward the exit, and O'Reily nodded. He knew the Irishman would cover him.

When he was fully out in the open, and there were no signs of anyone stirring, O'Reily joined him. "Let's make sure they've left the building."

"You two go ahead. I'll make sure there are no surprises for us here." There was no waver to Beecher's voice, and his gaze was cold.

He hated to leave Toby, but it made sense for one of them to stay behind, as Alvarez was crouching next to Mukada who had collapsed on the floor putting down the handgun like it was an explosive.

Keller and O'Reily made their way through the warehouse and to the door which was now wide open, rain blowing inside. They covered each other as they each took a turn looking outside. As they saw nothing, they shut the door and hurried back to the others.

Beecher was kicking Schilliinger's body and repeating, "Motherfucking child murderer."

For a moment, Keller just stared. It ain't like he blamed Beecher for the rage, but the sight of Beecher taking that anger out on a dead body put ice daggers of foreboding into his stomach. He took a deep breath, walked over and grabbed Beecher's arm. "You ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Beecher kicked Schillinger again and then stepped back. "That bastard is finally dead." He laughed. "Ding dong the witch is dead."

O'Reily cleared his throat. "We should look for any ammo they might have left behind, and then clear the fuck out of here."

"You thinking they might be coming back with reinforcements?" Keller asked.

O'Reily shrugged. "It's a possibility. You want to take that risk?"

"No." Alvarez had moved the handgun out of Mukada's sight. "I agree with you. Let's gather up any ammo they left behind and bug out of here."

They quickly and quietly moved through the warehouse, taking whatever they could carry. When they were ready to leave, Alvarez had trouble getting Mukada to his feet. The priest kept staring at his hands which were shaking. O'Reily came over and between the two of them, they got Mukada upright.

Keller thought the priest's face looked grey. Poor bastard had obviously never made the connection between this apocalyptic world and Oz—survival of the fittest ain't pretty, and sometimes you gotta kill to protect what's yours. All those "thou shalt nots" don't do shit for you when the only rule that mattered was that there wasn't any rule that mattered.

When they left the warehouse, the rain had settled into a bone chilling mist. It made every part of Keller ache, except his side, which burned so fiercely it felt like it had sucked all heat from the rest of his body. The adrenalin rush from the gunfight deserted him, and each step felt like he was trying to walk through quicksand. However, the others looked as miserable and exhausted as he did, so he told himself to suck it the fuck up and walk on. After a while, his body felt numb, and he wondered if he was moving like a zombie, lumbering along mindlessly. When they finally stopped for the night, he wasn't the only one who gratefully gave himself over to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After that final run in with Vern, Keller expected Beecher's nightmares to return, but that didn't happen. Of course that might have been because Beecher felt it wasn't necessary to sleep anymore. For the last few days, he'd woken to Beecher awake and either staring out a window or sitting near the edge of the tent, like he was waiting for someone's arrival. Last night, he had tried to drag him back to bed, and Toby fucking growled at him. Growled. He couldn't deal with this shit anymore.

Keller put his hand against the tree, where he had stopped to take a leak, and resisted looking at that goddamn dog bite. No point in looking at it, as he knew what he would see—a swollen, red, weeping mess. But hey, at least he didn't have to worry about Toby noticing, because Toby don't notice a damn thing. It was just like it had been when they escaped from the fucking city with Beecher locked in his own world. Except, at least back then he still had his Toby at night. Now he had nothing.

He forced himself to push away from the tree and return to the others. Christ he was exhausted. When he got back to the group, Toby didn't even glance up from where he was tracing the ground with a stick. Rage flooded Keller. He wanted to stalk over to Beecher, yank him to his feet and tell him to knock the pity party off. Guess what you ain't the only one in this shitty reality, and a fucking trip to Disney World for some tinkerbell dust to make it better ain't an option. He kept his mouth shut as the group moved onward, but the rage boiled with each step he took. It was almost as if the heat from his injury was devouring him, and he needed a release before the world turned blood red.

After an hour of what seemed to be directionless walking, Keller snapped. "Where the fuck are we going?" He stopped and crossed his arms, glaring at Alvarez.

"We're moving parallel to the highway. Don't make no sense to try to get on it or smell the shit that's gotta be out there, right?" Alvarez spoke calmly, seeming undisturbed by Keller's anger.

That calm pissed him off even further. "How 'bout answering the goddamn question. I get that walking along this barely more than a dirt road keeps us off the highway, but again where the fuck are we going?"

"To the country." Mukada spoke in his calm, soothing a wild animal voice.

It didn't help. "What the fuck does that mean? What exactly do you expect to find in the boonies?"

"What crawled up or didn't crawl up your ass, Keller?" Ryan shook his head, obviously annoyed. "Wherever there was a lot of people, there was a lot of death. It's a fucking mess. You know that. Further out, there will be less people, more land, so anyone with a brain will try to get as far from the city as they can. And like Alvarez has said many times, there's a good chance we'll find people creating a community."

"A community? Because we've all done so well with rules in the past? What do you think you're gonna find out there? Little House on the Prairie? It don't make a lick of sense. But you don't think for yourself anymore, do you O'Reily? You parrot whatever Alvarez says because you're his bitch."

He should have expected the blow. It hit his jaw snapping his head sideways. Here it was—the outlet for everything roiling inside him, except he couldn't seem to take advantage of that outlet. O'Reily's next punch hit his stomach. He should have blocked it easily. Normally he'd take down the Irishman with no problem, but today he was so ungodly tired.

Keller fell to his knees, his side burning like he was on fire. Somehow he found the strength to knock O'Reily off his feet, so that they were both on the ground. And then his world narrowed to pain, rage, and the overwhelming effort it took to make his limbs obey his commands.

"Stop this right now!"

The voice was authoritative. It brooked no argument, and it made Keller and O'Reily move away from each other and come to their knees.

Mukada looked furious. His voice boomed against the silence of the empty road. "This petty arguing isn't going to help any of us, let alone the two of you rolling around on the ground like a bunch of wild dogs."

Keller laughed. "What exactly is going to help?"

"Staying in control." Mukada's voice was steel.

When Keller looked up he saw Beecher standing next to Mukada, a smirk on his face and he knew Toby expected him not to back down and was looking forward to joining in on the melee. Fuck, he couldn't let this continue.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Keller?" Alvarez put his hand out and helped O'Reily to his feet, and then they both stepped away from him like he was a rabid dog. And he'd blame it on the bite from the dog, because it was no longer unbelievable that something could mutate you into a mindless, rage filled creature. Except, his control had always been one hair string from shattering. He'd always been a piece of shit mongrel rolling in the dirt.

Keller brushed off his pants and got to his feet. "World fucking ending." He swallowed back the bile building up in his throat. "Just blowing off some steam. Sorry 'bout that O'Reily. No hard feelings, right? You get where I'm coming from."

While O'Reily nodded, he still looked pissed. Nothing much he could do 'bout that, and he really couldn't rouse the energy to care, particularly after noticing the disappointed look on Beecher's face. Obviously he'd been hoping for a fight. He really was too tired for all this shit.

They continued on in silence, Keller walking behind the others. After a few minutes, Mukada dropped back and walked next to him.

"Are you all right, Chris?"

The priest looked as shitty as he felt, dark circles of sleeplessness making his eyes look old and worn out. No need to guess at what was keeping Mukada up at night, and he could tell him Vern was a piece of shit, but he knows that ain't gonna help. He was sure "thou shall not kill" wasn't something the priest would ever have thought he'd violate.

"Yeah." Keller didn't bother looking at Mukada when he tossed out the lie.

There was a pause. "Why don't you try sleeping alone tonight, and I'll stay with Beecher?"

"Nah, it's cool. Thanks." As much as he wanted to strangle Beecher right now, there still was no way he could close his eyes even for a few minutes if Toby wasn't in eyesight. Still it was nice of Mukada to offer.

"Ok. But if you change your mind, let me know. I'm happy to do it."

Keller nodded. Even after all the shit they'd gone through, Mukada still genuinely wanted to help. He wondered what it was that made some people so trusting despite life repeatedly showing them its dark, violent edges. Once he wouldn't have given it a second thought. People so naive were just suckers asking to be taking advantage of and nothing more than pawns to put in play to get what he wanted. Now he was glad Mukada was a man of his word. Funny, it didn't really solve anything, didn't do shit if you looked at the big scale, but in a small way it helped knowing Mukada was looking out for him and Toby. And maybe that's all that mattered anymore, the little things.

The list of shitty things he'd done in life had a lot of ink on it, and a number of those things he'd done to Toby. He ain't proud of what he's done, but he also wasn't going to beg forgiveness for most it. What was done was done. Still, he couldn't help wondering if almost leaving Mukada to be taken by zombies put the final black mark against him on God's judgment list. It wasn't like he'd really wished the priest to be ripped apart by zombies. He'd just been so afraid.

Keller remembered moving through Oz trying to keep one step ahead of the zombies. It was him, Beecher, O'Reily, Alvarez—and Cyril. The change had come upon Cyril suddenly. One moment he'd been fine, and then next he'd been snarling and throwing himself at the wall. Maybe it was having participated in that aging drug trial that made him turn so quickly, or maybe O'Reily had just hid the initial symptoms from them. It ain't a subject he was ever going to broach with O'Reily. Worse than the sudden change, though, was that just for a few moments he was lucid again.

_"Ryan, what's happening to me?"_

_"Shh, it's going to be all right, little brother. Ok." O'Reily tried to move closer to Cyril, but Alvarez kept a firm grip on him refusing to let him move forward._

_"No, something's wrong, Ryan. I feel wrong, bad. I'm scared. Help me, I'm scared."_

_Cyril started sobbing, and O'Reily struggled against Alvarez's grip. "Get the fuck off of me."_

_The sobbing cut off and in a flash Cyril was lunging, once again a snarling animal. Keller hit him across the head with a night stick, and when Cyril went down, he grabbed Beecher and ran._

_"Cyril!" Ryan screamed._

_Out of the corner of his eye, Keller saw Alvarez dragging O'Reily onward. "You can't help him anymore. I'm sorry, man. We have to run."_

_"Fuck, oh fuck." The words came out on a sob, but O'Reily kept up with them. Keller noticed that Miguel loosened his grip, but he kept a hold on O'Reily much like he himself was holding onto Beecher._

The road before him swayed. Why was it always so hard for him to walk a straight line? He looked over at Beecher whose gaze was somehow both distant and hard, as if he was focused on something Keller just couldn't see or understand. Whatever Toby's current world order was, he wasn't even registering on the meter. Back in those final days in Oz, Beecher's gaze had been distant as well, but he'd clung to Keller like a lifeline. Of course he'd known that line was threadbare as it had been woven together from his battering at Beecher's grief until he'd been able to offer some solace, so he'd been terrified the threads would break, and if that happened, would he be able to keep Beecher alive? He remembered the thought of needing to get them both out, to just get the fuck out, beating a panicked reverb through his veins.

_The cafeteria wasn't the best place to take shelter, as there were too many places to keep track of and just the four of them, but it was one of the few areas not currently infested by zombies. They'd used whatever wasn't bolted down to block the doors. And, hey, at least they had food._

_No one spoke. Cyril's absence haunted them all. It was some bad shit, and Keller knew he couldn't be the only one thinking what if one of them turned as well. Was running pointless because Cyril's fate was what awaited them all? No, he couldn't believe that because that line of thinking would drive him batshit crazy. Already fear was battering so much at his senses that the thought of needing to get Toby out of here was becoming a call to action. Something he needed to do now. He took a deep breath. If he didn't think things through for once, he'd get them both killed._

_Toby squeezed his hand as if he could sense Keller's turmoil, but he didn't say anything. What was there to say?_

_Alvarez had been pacing the room for a while, pausing at each entrance. He supposed Alvarez needed something to do because it wasn't like they couldn't hear the zombies outside periodically trying to get in. Sentry duty wouldn't do shit for them. Eventually Alvarez headed back over, but he stopped part way there. Keller followed his gaze to where O'Reily was seated on the floor head bowed on his knees and saw the compassion on Alvarez's face. He'd figured out about three months ago that they were fucking, but he'd kept that knowledge to himself, figured it might come in handy one day in managing O'Reily._

_As he watched Alvarez came over, squatted next to O'Reily and placed a hand on his neck. He stayed there long enough, unmoving, that Keller got tired of watching and closed his eyes. As he did, he thought that O'Reily was lucky to have established that connection with Alvarez or he would have been ripped apart by his brother. That was of course assuming they could get out of here with out being torn apart or turning._

Keller rubbed at his forehead. Somehow he felt both hot and chilled. It had seemed like they'd spent forever in that cafeteria waiting for the zombies, mutants, whatever the fuck they were, to die or at least move on. When the sounds outside had died down, he'd been the first one pushing to move on. The need to get the hell out had been too strong for him to sit still any longer. Oz had looked like a war zone, and it added to his drive to get out before they became causalities. He'd naively thought it'd be better on the outside. Apparently even he hadn't been able to imagine the worst.

They'd been moving through Oz quickly, taking what they needed off of dead guards or prisoners who had been felled trying to make their way out. And just when he felt like they were so damn close to getting out, Mukada's voice had come to them begging for Alvarez to help him.

_Alvarez turned immediately heading toward the priest who was trapped beneath a desk of all things._

_Keller's brain howled at the delay, and he grabbed Alvarez. "He ain't one of us. The moment we get out there, he's gonna snitch, and we're going to be back on the inside somewhere else. We need to keep moving."_

_"Miguel, please, don't leave me here." Mukada had tears on his cheeks, and he coughed and struggled beneath the desk._

_Alvarez yanked his arm free. "Easy, Father, we're not leaving you here. Just stay still, ok?" He looked at where Mukada was stuck. "Should be easy enough to lift this. Grab a side."_

_Beecher and O'Reily immediately moved to do as Alvarez directed. Toby gave him a look as he passed, and said in a soft voice, "Chris."_

_Damn it! There was nothing to be done but to help get the priest free as quickly as possible, so he lent a hand._

Maybe if once they'd gotten Mukada free, they'd kept to their speedy exit, he wouldn't have had so much rage. But the priest's leg had been injured when he got trapped, and so he limped as they made their way, slowing them down. He'd blamed Mukada for Toby getting hurt because he felt they would have been long gone and avoided it all if not for him.

Keller frowned. The road looked different. It was still swaying, but suddenly he felt closer to it. He realized he was on his knees, rocks sharp against his palms. It didn't matter. All that mattered was he really shouldn't have blamed the priest. It was goddamn fate that Said would be the last roadblock to freedom, and ain't nothing you can do 'bout fate.

_They were so close to the exit, moving as quietly as possible so as not to draw the attention of any zombies still lurking about, when Beecher suddenly pulled free from his grip. Before Keller could blink he was running toward someone curled up in a corner._

_Beecher crouched and touched the man's shoulder. "Said. Are you hurt? We need to get out of here."_

_Of course Said would have survived. Keller couldn't believe his lousy luck. He'd barely finished the thought when he realized Beecher was on the floor on his back, and Said was biting into his side. He was moving in an instant and thankfully O'Reily was by his side. Between the two of them, they beat Said off and dragged Beecher away._

_Keller held tight to Beecher's side, blood spilling over his fingers. As Toby's moans grew softer, the dread climbed higher up Keller's spine._

"He's burning up."

Mukada's face came into focus. He looked worried. "Everybody burns in Hell, Father."

"True, but you're not in Hell, Chris."

Keller laughed and then started coughing, and God that hurt.

"There's blood on his shirt and his left hand." That's Alvarez, but his voice sounds like he's coming from far away.

Mukada eased up his shirt. "I think he cut his hand when he fell. I'm more concerned by what's causing his side to bleed."

He tilted his head to the side and looked at his left hand. Huh, they were right. There was blood on his hand. He wiggled his fingers and felt a sharp pain that quickly went away. At least it was his own blood. It was always worse when it was Toby's.

_They made their way up the steps to the church. Keller just wanted a place where he could let Beecher lie down. There'd been some debate over staying the night in the bus, but it was too risky. It would have been like deciding to stay in a roach trap, ain't no way out when there's trouble. He wished the bus they'd taken had had more gas at least enough to get them out of the city. Nothing to be done about that, and at least they'd been lucky enough to come upon this church, with plenty of exit and entry points. It should be a good place to regroup._

_The scent should have warned him first, but he was too exhausted to make the connection. Toby could barely walk so he'd been practically carrying him, and even with that Toby's breath was extremely labored. They stood in silence gazing at the massacre before them. There was nothing holy or safe about this place, not anymore._

It was the first of many times Keller would wonder if he'd died and this was Hell. He looked at his hand again. Why was Toby's blood on it this time? Surely a sign of Hell would be not being able to stop Toby from bleeding.

A slap to his face made his eyes water, and he bit down on his tongue.

"Beecher, what the fuck? Cut it out you psycho."

Keller looked up to see O'Reily holding a furious Toby who was struggling viciously. He tried to get up, but a weight held him down. Mukada had a hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.

"Tobias this isn't helping." Mukada's voice was calm steel, and it seemed to get through to Beecher as he stopped struggling. "Let's take care of this, and when he's better, you can yell at him for being so incredibly stupid. I'll help you."

Beecher nodded, took a deep breath, and broke free of O'Reily's grasp with a snarl. He dropped to his knees beside Keller and then glared at him.

"Hey." Talking hurt, his throat was so dry, but he had to say something to Toby.

"Don't talk. How could you be so stupid?"

"Ya know me, ain't ever thinking things through."

Toby shook his head his lips so tight they were white.

"Shit, that's probably gonna need antibiotics." Alvarez loomed over him.

"Is it rabies?" O'Reily asked.

Beecher took hold of his hand. "No, the incubation period for rabies is months in humans. He wouldn't be showing symptoms yet." The grip on his hand became painful. "The wound got infected, and the idiot just let it go."

There were things he wanted to say, like beg Mukada to look out for Beecher, but the words wouldn't form, and while he knew the others were speaking, it was almost like they were doing so in a foreign language. Why would they do that? What didn't they want him to know?

Keller felt like he was floating, but with turbulence, painful turbulence that made him want to beg them to let him off this plane, but there weren't planes anymore. No one left to fly them.

Then the dogs came. Endless rows of them that they kept trying to fight off, but it was a losing battle. Their teeth sliced into him, hot shards cutting into his flesh. When his body was shrieking in agony, the dogs suddenly froze and parted, and Toby came through.

"Thank fucking God. Toby help me."

But Toby grinned at him and then opened his mouth wide showing sharp inhuman teeth, and then he was on Keller, ripping him to shreds. And there was nothing he could do about it.

His last thought as the fever pulled him from hallucinations into unconsciousness was that he'd failed, screwed it up again. _Never could keep Beecher safe._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took him several attempts to get his eyes open. It felt like they were encrusted in sand. Once he could see, Keller realized he had no idea where he was. It looked like some sort of clinic, but one that mustn't have been regularly used as the cabinets lining the walls were broken and missing their doors. When he moved his arm, he felt a tug and looked down. Fading bruises surrounded the spot where an IV was inserted. Had it all been a dream? He couldn't figure out what exactly might be the dream—the dogs, Schillinger, the zombies. Yes, he remembered, end of the world. That was real, right?

"Hello, Chris. It's good to see you awake." Mukada smiled at him and pointed to his arm. "You're lucky Miguel and Ryan paid attention when they worked in the infirmary, although it took a few tries to get it in. But I think some bruising is worth it for saving your life."

So, it hadn't all been a dream. He was shocked at the disappointment that filled him. What did he think he was going to do turn into Dorothy, click his heels and go home? Sounded like something Beecher would think. Besides did he really want to be back in Oz. He didn't know what he wanted. Everything hurt, and he was so tired.

A snort made him turn his head. Toby was curled up in a chair, asleep and looking like absolute shit. And just like that it was completely clear what he wanted because it was what he could never truly get—Beecher.

He wanted to ask Mukada how long he'd been out of it, but when he tried to talk nothing came out and he started to cough.

Mukada helped him sit up and poured him some water. "Take a sip. It'll help."

The water did help, but it tasted strange or maybe that was just his mouth still feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton. Mukada solved the issue for him.

"You'll get used to the taste. The water was suspect in the building so we've been boiling it, but that doesn't seem to have removed the heavy taste to it."

Keller nodded which made him feel dizzy. When he opened his mouth to say something instead of questions, all that came out was, "Sorry."

"What's that, Chris?"

"I'm sorry for back in Oz, saying we should leave you there. Never should have done that. I was afraid, can you believe that? So fucking afraid I wasn't going to be able to get Beecher out of there."

"I know. You need to calm down, and just take it easy. We've been really worried, but your fever finally broke. You're going to be all right."

This might be his last chance to set things right, and now that he'd started, Keller couldn't stop. He needed to make sure Mukada understood, and he had to ask one more thing of him. "I get it now. I had no right to ask for God's forgiveness for what I did, for anything I did. I wasn't sorry. I don't know if I'm capable of being as sorry as I should be, because I'm a piece of screwed up shit. I know that."

"Chris, you need to calm down."

He reached out and grabbed Mukada's arm. "No, I need to say this." Keller coughed. "Let me. You ain't a piece of shit. You're a good man, Father. And that won't change no matter what has to be done to survive. You'll always find your way, because you got some sort of moral compass that I ain't got. You've been good to me, better than most and better than I deserve, and I am truly sorry for wanting to leave you behind."

"You saved my life. You've had my back out here. Let's leave Oz back in Oz."

"Ok. I need a favor, though. Watch out for Toby, please. I can't guide him through this. He needs...I don't know what he needs, but it's more than what I can do. Please."

"Of course, I'll look out for Tobias. Just as you will. You're too hard on yourself. You've looked out for him every step of the way since we escaped and even before, after Holly turned. So don't you give up. You're getting better. Remember what you told me—we're not going down."

Keller chuckled. Didn't Mukada realize he was a cocky bastard who never saw the big picture? "Right." The world started to dim.

"And Chris, I forgive you."

He smiled for a second, and then everything faded. In the darkness, there ain't no white light to claim him. There was no end, just this limbo where sometimes he heard Toby's voice coming from far away or thought he heard the terrifying sound of barking dogs. Said spoke to him occasionally with his typical derision. And of course there was Schillinger, always fucking Schillinger.

At some point, he realized he probably wasn't going to die. He'd survive this just like Mukada had said. Keller wasn't sure how he felt about living. Was this living, and did it really matter? In the end of days, he ain't no fucking god, none of them are. They're all just refuse the world forgot to incinerate.


End file.
